Shotgun Review Archive

Mads Lynnerup: You Are The Artist, You Figure It Out

Gallery Counter, 2008. Wood, flowers, doll head, wig, gallery information, chair and broom, 54 x 69 x 28.5 inches Mads Lynnerup's solo exhibition at Baer Ridgway Exhibitions presents a wide array of media--video, much of which draws on performance and social sculpture, as well as printmaking, installation, drawing, and sculpture. There is even a limited edition that features a photograph and a t-shirt. Lynnerup's signature humor is present in all of the work in varying degrees. The empty-headed-wig-as-receptionist installation, Gallery Counter, can be appreciated by anyone who has ever sat at a front desk, or at any desk for that matter. It is perhaps even a bit funnier at BRX than it might be anywhere else, as both Baer and Ridgway have recently vacated other front desks to spearhead the programming of their own smart gallery. A series of simple drawings, Time is Money, Money is Time, and the sculptures-slash-benches, Super Burrito Couches, in the back gallery also warrant amusement. But here is the rub--the humor is a bit too quickly consumed and leaves little to consider once the joke is told. Super Burrito Couch, 2009. Aluminized polyester, foam, wood, 23 x 97 x 28 inches The surplus of work--in all shapes, sizes, prices, and media--conveys an overt awareness of the market, or rather the absence of the market. When I expressed surprise to see drawings, having never seen drawings by the artist before, the dealers mentioned that they were also unaware of his interest in drawing until he showed up with them for the show. Well, drawings are a lot easier to sell than video--but video, or more accurately conceptually driven media, is where he makes his best work... The title of another series, Drawing Cars (Looking for a New Vehicle for My Work), reads like a clever admission from the artist, looking for ways to package conceptual practice into objects with accessible price tags. Though I don't begrudge anyone the need to make money, I do wonder what happens when the creative process is filtered through this concern. When the art market was at its peak a few years ago, this resulted in rushing half-baked (and sometimes still wet) work to the fair for the feeding frenzy. Perhaps in the new non-economy, there is the potential for an inverse reaction. If nothing is selling anyway, will artists concentrate their efforts on executing only the best of their ideas? Drawing Cars (Looking for a New Vehicle for My Work), 2007. Eighteen sheets, ink on paper, framed, 11 x 17 inches each (paper); 13 x 19 inches each (frame) Two of the videos offered more to consider. Squirrels (Recession), a simply constructed video of squirrels racing around a park, literally squirreling away supplies for the hard times ahead, while the artist reads a tale off-camera from the global financial crisis. The pairing of this image with the even cadence of his voice reading from the newspaper offers an appropriate record of the current downward spiral of commerce--it is one of the least self-consciously humorous works in the exhibition and is probably also the most quickly dismissed by those looking for another quick punch line. Directly across the room, Water, is a video that documents Lynnerup going door-to-door in a New York neighborhood asking residents if they will give him tap water for an art project. The variety of unscripted responses is interesting--one woman offers a tiny Dixie cup, while a young man brings Lynnerup right into his kitchen to draw water from the sink himself. A elderly man appears at the door with a sloshing bucket, while another becomes agitated when the artist won't accept the water bottles that he offers--he is unwilling to let the artist into his home, but still makes a premium offering of bottled water over ordinary tap. "Do you want the fucking water or don't you," he roars before slamming the door when Lynnerup insists that it is simply regular tap water he is after. Of all the works in the show, this one offers the greatest depth of ideas: the use of water as a symbol for collective resources, Lynnerup's quest for this basically "free" commodity and the community response to contributing to an art project, and/or notions of generosity in times of scarcity. And yet, in the context of the larger exhibition, I was left wondering if Lynnerup really was thinking about the wider issues relative to this work. My pervasive sense, while sitting on a Super Burrito Couch, was that it was done for a lark and that I was investing the work with greater criticality than might have been intended. Thinking that perhaps some of the work is just supposed to be funny struck me as a lot less than he is capable of doing, even amidst a beautifully installed exhibition jam-packed with work that offered enjoyment in the moment. "Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink..."--so goes the old mariner saying from folklore about a ship at sea with no drinking water left on board. Like much of the humorous intent in this exhibition: there is much to be had, but only a few scattered drops offer sustenance. Mads Lynnerup: You Are The Artist, You Figure It Out will be on view at Baer Ridgway Exhibitions until February 14, 2008.